The three young men had separated at the Place Louis XV, Morrel going via the boulevards, Château-Renaud crossing the Pont de la Révolution and Debray following the path by the river. It seemed likely that Morrel and Château-Renaud would be returning to the bosom of their families -- as they still call it in the House, in well-turned speeches, and at the theatre in the Rue de Richelieu, in well-written plays; but the same was not true of Debray. When he got to the grille at the Louvre, he took a left turn, crossing the Carrousel at the double, slipped down the Rue Saint-Roch, came out at the Rue de la Michodière and arrived finally at M. Danglars' door, just as M. de Villefort's landau, having deposited him and his wife in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, was pulling up to let the baroness return home.

Debray, as someone who knew the house, was the first to go into the courtyard and he tossed the reins to a footman, then went back to the door of the carriage to help Mme Danglars, offering her his arm so that she could get down and go indoors. As soon as the gate was closed and the baroness and Debray were in the courtyard, he asked: "What is wrong, Hermine? Why were you ill when the count told that story -- or, rather, that fairy tale?"

"You are wrong, Lucien, I assure you," Mme Danglars said. "It is just as I said, together with the bad temper that you noticed and which I did not think was worth mentioning to you."

"No, Hermine," Debray protested. "You won't convince me of that. On the contrary, you were in an excellent mood when you got to the count's. I admit, Monsieur Danglars was a trifle gloomy, but I know what importance you attach to his bad tempers. Someone did something to you. Tell me about it. You know that I should never allow anyone to insult you in any way."

"Because I was in terrible form this evening, my friend," the baroness replied.

It was clear that Mme Danglars was suffering from one of those nervous irritations which women are often unable to explain even to themselves, or else, as Debray had guessed, that she had experienced some hidden disturbance which she did not want to discuss with anyone. So, as a man who was used to treating "the vapours" as a part of a woman's life, he did not press the matter, but waited for a suitable opportunity to arise, either for further questioning, or else for a confession proprio motu.

"What is my daughter doing?" asked Mme Danglars.

At the door of her room, the baroness met Mlle Cornélie. Mlle Cornélie was her chambermaid and confidante.

"Very good," said Mme Danglars. "Come and undress me."

"But isn't that a piano I can hear?"

"She spent the whole evening studying," Mlle Cornélie answered. "Then she went to bed."

"It's Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly playing, while mademoiselle is in bed."

They went into her bedroom. Debray slouched on to a large sofa and Mme Danglars went through to her dressing-room with Mlle Cornélie.

"My dear Monsieur Lucien," Mme Danglars said through the door, "are you still complaining that Eugénie doesn't deign to speak to you?"

Lucien was playing with the baroness's lapdog which, acknowledging him as a friend of the house, was responding affectionately to his attentions. "Madame," he replied, "I'm not the only one who has complained about it to you. I think I heard Morcerf telling you only the other day that he could not get a word out of his fiancée."

"That's true," said Mme Danglars, "but I think that all this will change one of these fine mornings, and you'll see Eugénie coming to your chambers."

"To my own chambers?"

"To ask you to persuade them to take her on at the Opera. I must tell you, I've never seen such an infatuation with music. It's ridiculous in someone of her position."

"I mean, the ministerial ones."

"Why?"

Debray smiled. "If she comes with your consent and that of the baron," he said, "we'll have her engaged and try to make the part suitable for her, though we are not really rich enough to pay for a talent such as hers."

"No, nothing," said the baroness. And yet, feeling stifled, she got up, tried to recover her breath and went to look at herself in a mirror. "I'm a real fright this evening," she said.

"You may go, Cornélie," Mme Danglars said. "I don't need you any more."

Cornélie vanished, and a moment later Mme Danglars emerged from her dressing-room in a charming négligée and sat down beside Lucien. Then, distractedly, she began to stroke the spaniel. Lucien looked at her for a moment in silence. "Come now, Hermine," he said eventually. "Something is troubling you, isn't it?"

Mme Danglars had turned around at the sound of the door and was looking at her husband with an astonishment that she did not even attempt to conceal.

Debray was just getting up with a smile to go over and reassure the baroness that this was not the case, when suddenly the door opened and M. Danglars appeared. Debray sat down again.

No doubt the baroness thought that this unexpected visit signified something, for example a desire to make up for the bitter words which the baron had uttered during the day, so she took on a haughty air and turned towards Lucien, without answering her husband. "Read something to me, Monsieur Debray," she said.

Debray had been slightly uneasy at this visit to begin with, but, seeing the baroness's imperturbability, he recovered his calm and stretched out his hand towards a book, marked in the centre with a mother-of-pearl paperknife inlaid with gold.

"Good evening, Madame," the banker said. "Good evening, Monsieur Debray."

"Excuse me, Baroness," said the baron, "but you will tire yourself if you stay up so late. It is eleven o'clock and Monsieur Debray lives a long way from here."

Debray was astonished, though Danglars' voice was perfectly steady and polite; but behind the calm good manners he detected a certain unaccustomed impulse to do something, apart from bowing to the wishes of his wife. The baroness was equally surprised and showed her astonishment with a look that would no doubt have given her husband pause for reflection, if he had not been attentively searching the closing prices in a newspaper. The result was that her arrogant look failed to reach its target and so was completely wasted.

"As you wish, Madame," Lucien said phlegmatically.

"My dear Monsieur Debray," the baron said, "you really must not exhaust yourself, I beg you, in listening to Mme Danglars' nonsense tonight, because you can just as well hear it tomorrow. This evening is mine, and I am reserving it for myself, if you would be so good as to allow me, because I have some grave matters to discuss with my wife."

"Monsieur Lucien," the baroness said, "I must declare, I have not the slightest desire to sleep and there are a dozen things I want to talk about, so you will stay and listen to me all night, even if you fall asleep on your feet."

This time the assault was so direct and well aimed that Lucien and the baroness were stunned by it. They exchanged a look as if each was trying to find assistance against this attack. But the irresistible power of the master of the house triumphed and the husband was left victorious.

"Don't, please, think that I am driving you away, my dear Debray," Danglars went on. "No, not in the slightest. But an unexpected eventuality has made me wish to have a conversation with the baroness this very evening. This is such a rare occurrence that no one could hold it against me."

When Lucien had gone, Danglars sat down in his place on the sofa, closed the book and, adopting a thoroughly pretentious pose, continued to stroke the dog. However, the animal did not have the same sympathy for him as for Debray and tried to bite him, so he grasped it by the nape of the neck and tossed it across the room on to a chaise-longue. The spaniel yelped on finding itself in mid-air, but on reaching its destination buried itself in a cushion and, stupefied by this unaccustomed treatment, remained silent and motionless.

Debray stammered a few words, bowed and left the room, knocking against the corners, like Nathan in Athalie. "It's extraordinary," he said, when the door had closed behind him, "how easily these husbands, whom we consider so ridiculous, are none the less able to regain the advantage over us!"

Hermine considered the banker with utter contempt. Normally Danglars, a proud man, would be infuriated by these looks, but on this occasion he hardly seemed to notice.

"That's because I am in a worse mood than usual tonight," said Danglars.

"No, Madame, not at all," Danglars replied. "Your advice is quite misguided and I have no intention of taking it. My offices are my 'golden goose', as I believe Monsieur Desmoutiers calls them, and I should not want to upset the bird or ruffle its feathers. My clerks are honest fellows who earn a fortune for me and are paid at a rate considerably below what they are worth, if that is judged according to the profits they bring; so I am not going to lose my temper with them. The people who do put me in a rage are those who eat my dinners, wind my horses and plunder my wealth."

"Do you know, Monsieur," said the baroness, without raising an eyebrow, "you really are excelling yourself. Normally you are merely coarse, but tonight you are behaving like a brute."

"What do I care about your bad moods?" the baroness exclaimed, exasperated by her husband's impassivity. "Are they anything to do with me? Shut them up in your part of the house or confine them to your offices. Since you have paid clerks, take your foul tempers out on them!"

"Oh, don't worry, I may be talking in riddles, but I won't keep you guessing for long. The people who plunder my wealth are the ones who take five hundred thousand francs away from me in an hour."

"On the contrary, you follow me very well," said Danglars. "But if you persist in pretending otherwise, I must tell you that I have just lost seven hundred thousand francs on the Spanish loan."

"Oh, well, I never!" sniggered the baroness. "Are you trying to blame me for your loss?"

"Is it my fault if you lost seven hundred thousand francs?"

"I don't follow you, Monsieur," said the baroness, trying to disguise the emotion in her voice and the blush on her cheeks.

"And what people are those, who plunder your wealth? Please explain, Monsieur."

"I can certainly believe that," said Danglars. "Neither of them had a penny to rub together."

"Shouldn't I?"

"In any case, it's not mine."

"Once and for all, Monsieur," the baroness said, sharply, "I have told you never to talk money to me. It's a language I was not taught either by my parents or in the house of my first husband."

"All the more reason for me not to have learnt your banker's argot, which assails my ears here from morning to night. I am repelled by that sound of coins being counted and recounted; I don't know if it is not more odious to me than the sound of your voice."

"I! What can have made you think such a thing?"

"You yourself did."

"Certainly."

"How ridiculous!"

"Oh, that's very easy. Last February, you were the first to mention the Haitian funds to me. You dreamt that a ship was entering the port at Le Havre, with news that a payment, which everyone had thought postponed indefinitely, was about to be made. I know how clear-headed you are when asleep, so I had them buy up all the bonds that they could on the Haitian debt and I made four hundred thousand francs, a hundred thousand of which was duly handed over to you. What you did with it is no business of mine.

"How strange, indeed!" said Danglars. "And I always thought you took a close interest in my business."

"I should be pleased to know on what occasion."

"In March, there was a tender on the railways. Three firms bid for it, each offering equally firm guarantees. You told me that your instinct informed you that the contract would be given to a company from the south. Now, even though you pretend to be ignorant, I do believe that sometimes you have a very acute instinct in such matters.

"Thank goodness for that!"

"But where is all this leading, Monsieur?" the baroness exclaimed, trembling with scorn and impatience.

"I immediately bought two-thirds of the stock in that firm. It did indeed win the contract and, as you predicted, the shares tripled in value. I made a million, of which two hundred and fifty thousand francs went to you as pin-money. What did you do with it?"

"In April, you went to dinner with the minister. There was talk of Spain and you overheard a private conversation about the expulsion of Don Carlos. I bought Spanish stock. The expulsion took place and I earned six hundred thousand francs on the day when Charles V crossed the Bidassoa. Out of that, you had fifty thousand écus. They were yours, and you could do as you wished with them; I'm not asking you to account for it. But the fact remains that this year you have had five hundred thousand livres."

"Patience, Madame, we are coming to the point."

"Ah, yes, so! Well, it was just after that that everything turned sour."

"So, Monsieur?"

"So, what of it?"

"You really do have a way of putting it…"

"So, since I give you a quarter when I win, you owe me a quarter when I lose. A quarter of seven hundred thousand francs is one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs."

"What you are saying is ludicrous. And I really cannot see why you should bring Monsieur Debray's name into all this."

"Because if you don't happen to have the one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs that I am claiming from you, you can borrow from your friends, of whom Monsieur Debray is one."

"It expresses how I feel, which is all I need… 'After that' was three days ago. Three days ago you had a discussion on politics with Monsieur Debray and you thought he said that Don Carlos had returned to Spain. As a result, I sold my stock. The news spread, there was a panic and I wasn't able to sell any more, I was giving it away. The next day, the news turned out to have been false, and this false news had cost me seven hundred thousand francs!"

"Oh, let's have no gestures, no cries, no melodrama, Madame, or I shall be obliged to tell you that I can see from here Monsieur Debray sniggering over the five hundred thousand francs or so that you have given him this year, and telling himself that he has at last found what the most skilful gambler has never found, which is a roulette wheel where you can win without playing and don't lose even when you lose."

The baroness was fit to burst. "You wretch!" she said. "Do you dare say that you were not aware of what you now venture to reproach me with?"

"I don't say that I knew or that I didn't; I am just telling you this: consider how I have behaved in the four years since we have ceased to live as man and wife, and you will see that my conduct has always been consistent. Some time before the breach between us, you wanted to study music with that famous baritone who was such a success at the Théâtre Italien, while I wanted to study dancing with that dancer who had been so warmly received when she appeared in London. It cost me, for you and for me, some hundred thousand francs. I did not complain, because one must try to preserve the peace in one's home. A hundred thousand francs for the man and the woman to perfect their dancing and their music is not excessive. Then you soon became bored with singing, and you got the idea that you would like to study diplomacy with one of the minister's secretaries. I let you. You see, it doesn't matter to me, as long as you are paying for your lessons out of your own pocket. But I now see that you are dipping into mine and that your further education might cost me as much as seven hundred thousand francs a month. Whoa, Madame! It can't go on like this. Either the diplomat will have to start giving his… lessons for nothing, and I shall put up with him, or he will not be allowed to set foot again in my house. Do you understand?"

"Fiddle-de-dee!" the baroness exclaimed.

"And I am glad to see," said Danglars, "that you are not far behind me, and that you have willingly chosen to obey the legal maxim: 'The wife should follow her husband.'"

"You are right. Let's stop arguing and be reasonable. I have never interfered with your business except to do you good; you do the same. You say that my wealth is none of your business? Very well, look after your own, but don't try to increase or diminish mine. In any case, who can tell if this is not some kind of political chicanery -- if the minister, furious because I am with the opposition and jealous of the popular sympathy that I enjoy, has not been in league with Monsieur Debray to ruin me?"

"You insult me."

"Very likely, I must say!"

"Why not? Who has ever seen anything like it: a false message on the telegraph, in other words something more or less impossible: different signals given by the two operators! It was done specifically to harm me, that's the truth of it."

"But this is really too much, Monsieur!" Hermine cried, barely able to speak. "You are exceeding the bounds of ignominy!"

"But then," Hermine said, suddenly, "if all this, according to you, is Monsieur Debray's fault, why not tell him about it directly, instead of coming to me? Why accuse the man and attack the woman?"

"But I would have thought, since you profit by it…"

"Monsieur," the baroness said humbly, "you must know, I think, that the operator in question was dismissed, there was even talk of bringing him to trial and the order had gone out to arrest him, which would have been done if he had not escaped detection by fleeing in a way that proves his madness, or his guilt… There was some mistake."

"Yes, and one which makes fools laugh, the minister lose a night's sleep and the secretaries of state blacken a lot of paper, but which cost me seven hundred thousand francs."

"Do I know Monsieur Debray?" said Danglars. "Do I want to know him? Do I want to know that he gives advice? Do I want to take it? Do I gamble? No, you do all these things, not I."

Danglars shrugged his shoulders. "What mad creatures they are, these women who think themselves geniuses because they have managed to carry on one or two affairs without everyone in Paris knowing about them! But just consider: even if you had disguised your irregularities from your husband himself -- and that is the most elementary skill in the business, because most of the time husbands don't want to see what is going on -- you would still only be a pale copy of what most of your society friends are doing. With me it is different: I saw and I have always seen. In roughly the past sixteen years you may have hidden a thought from me, but never a step, an action or a sin. While you were flattering yourself as to your skill and firmly believed that you were deceiving me, what happened? The truth was that, thanks to my turning a blind eye, there has not been one of your friends, from Monsieur de Villefort to Monsieur Debray, who has not been afraid of me. There is not one who has not treated me as the master of the house, which is my only claim on you. In short, not one would have dared say to you the things about myself that I am telling you today. I will let you make me hateful, but I refuse to allow you to make me ridiculous and, above all, I absolutely forbid you to ruin me."

"What I mean, Madame, is that Monsieur de Nargonne, your first husband, being neither a philosopher nor a banker -- or, perhaps, being both -- and seeing that there was nothing to be obtained from a crown prosecutor, died of sorrow or of wrath on coming back from a nine months' absence to find you pregnant by six. I am brutal: not only do I know that, I am proud of it: it is one secret of my success in business. Why, instead of killing the other man, did he kill himself? Because he had no fortune to save. But I do, and I have an obligation to my money. My associate, Monsieur Debray, has lost me seven hundred thousand francs. Let him pay for his share of the loss and we shall continue to do business. Otherwise, let him go bankrupt for his hundred and seventy-five thousand livres and do what all bankrupts do, which is to disappear. Heavens, he's a charming youth, I know, when his news is accurate; but when it's wrong there are fifty others in society who are worth more than he is."

Until the name of Villefort was mentioned, the baroness had looked fairly confident but, on hearing that name, she paled and, getting up as though driven by a spring, she held out her arms as if to ward off an apparition and took three steps towards her husband, as though trying to extract from him the remains of a secret that he did not know; or which, perhaps, he did not want to reveal altogether, as part of some vile scheme -- for all Danglars'schemes were vile. "Monsieur de Villefort! What is this? What do you mean?"

Mme Danglars was crushed, but she made one final effort to respond to this last assault. She fell back into a chair, thinking of Villefort, of the scene at the dinner and of the strange series of misfortunes that had fallen, one by one, on her family over the past few days, replacing the comfortable peace of her household with shocking arguments. Danglars was not even looking at her, even though she did all she could to faint. He opened the bedroom door without a further word and went back to his own apartments, so that Mme Danglars, recovering from her half-unconscious state, might even have thought she had suffered a nightmare.